


Home Brewed

by en passant (corinthian)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's, Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 08:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4215486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinthian/pseuds/en%20passant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Sometimes</i> when drunk you break into other people's apartments by accident and <i>sometimes</i> that sends you off down the path to a new relationship.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Modern AU, Starshipping for ygoshipolympics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Brewed

lovely art by [Thayo](http://thayora.tumblr.com/)

Judai was sure this was his apartment. Well, his and Johan’s apartment. He was _mostly_ sure, anyway. They lived on the first floor, the third building on St. Nikolas St and that was where he was _he was sure_. Of course, he had also been out celebrating — just a few drinks, a few drinking dares — with Manjoume and Shou and it was _late_ and the streetlight was out but Judai obviously knew his way home, right?

The thing was, he just couldn’t find his keys. Judai had checked in both his pockets, his back pocket and the bottom of his shoulderbag. It was too late — Shou had admonished them all when they’d left the bar at 2am, but he’d stayed to the end of the celebration anyway — to call to ask if he’d left his key at Manjoume’s; though if he had left his key at Manjoume’s it was probably lost forever. Johan was traveling, but usually they kept a spare key under the flowerpot on the porch of the building.

Someone must’ve stolen their flowerpot. Judai spent a long three minutes staring at the spot where the flowerpot should have been. There wasn’t even a ring of dirt — to his eyes, in the dim pre-dawn light — so not only had the thief stolen the flowerpot but swept up after themselves.

That’s so ridiculous.

Judai laughed and then walked off the porch, down alongside the apartment building to the window that was Johan’s bedroom. Since Johan was the primary lease holder, he had the room with the window — it wasn’t a bad deal though, since Judai’s room stayed warmer during the winter.

A pocket knife, a length of twisted metal and a little elbow grease is all it took to pry the bedroom window open and up. Judai’s limber enough that he climbed right up and into the room with almost no effort at all — and then he stepped on something sharp.

“ _Shit_!” He’d stepped on a friggin’ screw. It was long — more like a threaded bolt than a screw and Johan wasn’t exactly an engineer. Judai leaned back against the wall and scowled down at the screw that was thoroughly embedded in the soft sole of his sandals and had poked him all the way up through the compacted foam.

The lights flicked on.

Judai was _not_ in Johan’s room and _not_ in his shared apartment and the guy who stood in the doorway holding a wrench like a club was definitely _not_ pleased. He was also only wearing boxers and had that squinted look of someone who had been trying to sleep.

“Uh, hey,” Judai waved a hand, all too aware of the window that was opened behind him. “A hero arrives!” And his wave turned into a two fingered salute — his signature.

Boxers-guy — navy, star print — didn’t lower the wrench but made a long-suffering sighing sound. Then waved the wrench back and forth, as if that took place of actually talking.

“Sorry, thought this was my place.” Judai continued on. “My roommate’s out of town and I lost my keys. It’s like three in the morning? Sorry about this, I think I’m still kind of drunk.” And then he laughed.

“Spare bedroom.” Boxers-guy said, though it was more of a hazy grunt.

“What?” Judai looked around — it was, in fact, a spare bedroom. There was an open toolbox on the floor with screws, bolts and a package of nails scattered around it as well as a half-completed bundle of wires and circuits. But, there was also a bed, neatly made and utterly untouched by the mechanical chaos.

“Don’t steal anything.” The wrench was lowered and the door shut again. Judai stood in the spare bedroom and then walked over, turned off the light and flopped down onto the bed.

“Don’t steal anything,” Judai echoed to himself and laughed again. What would he steal out of the junk on the floor? Besides, he was too tired and way too drunk to make a getaway. Though, he did fall asleep to the idea of Boxers-guy chasing him down the street, waving his wrench and yelling, _Stop, thief!_

Morning came and came with a vengeance. Judai first woke to the sun streaming in through the window — there weren’t any curtains and even if there were, he left it wide open after climbing in last night. He went back to sleep, or tried to, but was resoundly woken up later by the _most obnoxious_ hammering noise.

“Be quiet will you already?!” Judai grumbled and rolled out of bed — promptly stepped on a bolt and then stubbed his toe on the toolbox on the floor. “What the fuck!”

After he landed on the floor Judai continued to lay there for a moment. The room spun and the dryness in his back of his throat threatened mutiny, that was, if his splitting headache didn’t kill him first. The world conspired against him and maybe if he didn’t move it wouldn’t be able to get revenge on him.

The door opened, after a while, and Boxers-guy — who was no longer wearing boxers but instead dressed in dark, dirty jeans and a tee covered in grease — looked down, unimpressed. He was carrying a hammer — and there was a deep smudge of black across one cheek.

“You’re still here,” Boxers-guy said.

“Uh, yeah, just woke up,” Judai waved from the floor and then sat up. “Sorry — last night, it’s kind of a blur.”

“Thought you would’ve left by now. I’m Yuusei.”

“Can you — give me a moment? Or maybe like another three hours…”

“What’s your name?” Yuusei cut in, and pushed the door open wider. Judai, very maturely, resisted the urge to re-plant his face on the carpet.

“Judai, Yuuki Judai, at your service!”

Yuusei quirked a bit of an odd grin — it was a look that would have been perfect on a Big Brothers/Big Sisters poster, a little indulgent and all too honestly kind.

“Nice to meet you. You’ll feel better with breakfast.” Yuusei left, then.

Judai stared at the open door, then down at the carpet. It might be the hangover, but he felt even more off-balance than he had last night. It was his first breaking and entering escapade, but it seemed unlikely that he would break into the apartment of the one guy who couldn’t care less about that. Definitely horror movie set-up kind of events.

Despite his thoughts, Judai decided that Yuusei was right and he _would_ feel better with breakfast so he hauled himself up and down the hallway. It was a simple layout — really similar to the apartment he shared with Johan; two bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms, a living room and kitchen merged area with a raised bar covered in faux-wood. The apartment in contrast to Judai’s own though, was spartan, as if it hadn’t been moved into properly.

There weren’t any pictures on the wall, the walls were still the default taupe and the only furniture in the living-room-kitchen was a clearly salvaged couch. There wasn’t even a table, chairs or stools for someone to sit in.

Yuusei stood in front of the stove — and to Judai’s absolute horror — dumped about a fourth of a cup of instant coffee into a pot of boiling water. Yuusei didn’t stir the pot, just jiggled it a bit and reached behind him for a mug on the drying rack.

“No,” Judai said firmly, and even with his pounding headache walked over and intercepted Yuusei’s hand. “That’s disgusting.”

Yuusei easily maneuvered his hand out of Judai’s grip and passed the mug over. “At least drink some water.” Judai couldn’t argue with that and he filled it from the tap. The kitchen wasn’t really big enough for both of them, so he sat on the counter. Yuusei didn’t comment on it, dropped a cinnamon stick into the pot of instant coffee boiling away on the stove.  
“Eggs?” Yuusei asked.

“Sure, bacon too, if you’ve got it.”

Judai noticed there wasn’t a large refrigerator, but instead two smaller ones — the kind most people had in college dorms — stacked on top of each other. Bacon came out of one, and eggs from the other.

“Do you like your coffee sweet?” A large griddle was laid across the stovetop and the heat cranked up high on both burners. Soon bacon sizzled away, curling up crisp and then eggs scrambled and poured into the corner of the griddle.

“The sweeter the better,” Juda admitted readily. He didn’t have any pride issues when it came to confessing to a sweet tooth.

“Open this,” Yuusei tossed him a squat can — condensed milk — and broke up the eggs with a plastic spatula.

“So, the whole breaking and entering thing…” Judai had to get off the counter to dig around for a can opener. The kitchen drawers were also mostly bare — there were two sets of silverware and then a drawer full of, like, seventeen screwdrivers. Finally, Judai found the can opener and started easing off the lid of the condensed milk. “This happen to you a lot? You seem awfully prepared.”

“Someone once helped me, no questions asked.” Yuusei shrugged. “It’s a pay it forward kind of deal.”

Judai snorted — then laughed. “I was drunk, not in trouble.”

“I said, no questions asked.”

The eggs and bacon were done and put onto mismatched plates — one plain white and the other looked like it had been picked up from the kid’s section of the dollar store, decorated in little crowns and hearts. Yuusei offered both to Judai, to let him choose, and smirked lightly when Judai took the crowns and hearts plate.

Condensed milk is poured into the bottom of two mugs and then the coffee — spiced with cinnamon — is added to it and whisked lightly. Judai was the kind of person who normally avoided the flat-yet-bitter taste of instant coffee but found himself appreciating the doctored sludge Yuusei gave him. The condensed milk sweetened it and the cinnamon gave it more of a round taste — the acrid burned nature of the instant coffee still shone through, but he could overlook that, just barely.

“This is better than it looks,” he said.

“Thanks,” Yuusei replied, dryly. “I work in a few hours, if you leave by the window try to close it after you.”

Judai didn’t answer until he’d shoved all the eggs and bacon down his throat and finished off the coffee. “I was planning on going through the front door, if that was okay by you, Mr. Yuusei.” He batted his eyelashes. It caught Yuusei off guard, his eyes widened over the coffee mug, but with it in front of his mouth, Judai couldn’t catch his full expression.

“... fine by me,” Yuusei finally said, voice far more calm than his surprise should have let on.

“But, before I go, got a shower I can use? Towel?” Judai stacked his mug and plate in the kitchen sink and gave Yuusei an expectant look.

“Yeah, sure. Towels’re under the sink.” Yuusei was still eating when Judai went to shower. The bathroom was almost as bare as the living room, but the shower curtain was an odd deep purple color with fancy shower hooks that were at odds with the rest of Yuusei’s apartment. There was only one toothbrush by the sink, but there were so many towels crammed into the cabinet that Judai could have dried an entire family with them. There was only a single bottle of anything in the shower, utilitarian shampoo-soap that smelled vaguely like nutmeg. Judai took a long shower, scrubbed off last night’s grunge from his skin and hair. It was too bad he hadn’t brought a change of clothes, though he hadn’t planned to stay out overnight either. Yesterday’s jeans and tee were pulled back on after he dried off. A little smoke from the bar had saturated his clothes, but it wasn’t so bad — and he couldn’t find any kind of Febreeze or anything in the bathroom. Something told him that Yuusei wasn’t really a Febreeze kind of guy.

By the time Judai emerged, Yuusei had changed clothes and cleaned the grease off of his face. He looked a bit uncomfortable, tugging on the hem of his shirt while flipping the pages of the newspaper laid out on the couch beside him.

“Thanks. You know, I thought someone might’ve stolen my apartment key, last night. Glad to know it’s just someone else’s apartment entirely!” Judai announced himself.

“I almost threw my wrench at you,” Yuusei said, but stood. He was already wearing shoes — black sneakers — and moved towards the door. “I’ll see you out, I’ve got to go somewhere anyway before work.”

“Is your aim any good?” Judai stepped outside and squinted at the sun. As soon as he got home he was taking an advil and a nap.

“Maybe next time you’ll find out,” Yuusei casually threatened and locked the front door behind him. “See you around, maybe.”  
“Yeah, see you around, maybe.” Judai waved and headed down the street. It was only after he’d been walking for five minutes that he looked up at the street signs — he was four blocks away from his apartment, and the street name — Belhor Ave — was not even _close_ to St. Nikolas St.

* * *

There had to be a word for the phenomenon where someone who _must_ have been present in the background before suddenly comes sharply into focus, but for the life of him, Yuusei didn’t know it. The issue had become, more, that he was being plagued by a certain Yuki Judai.

It was clearly not intentional on either of their parts — especially because Yuusei kept seeing Judai at work. At his part-time at the laundromat, at his other part-time at the parking garage, the coffeeshop. Each meeting there had only been enough time for Yuusei to nod in acknowledgement, for Judai to say hello, and then they both went their separate ways again.

For some reason, that bothered Yuusei even more. It was like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. He didn’t even _know_ Judai that well and any time he let someone stay over, no questions asked, Yuusei made it a point to not think too hard about them. It had only happened a few times in the past — and each time they had disappeared without another word.

So, when they finally got a chance to speak — Yuusei just got off his shift at the coffeeshop and Judai was just leaving — Yuusei grabbed it.

“Hey,” Yuusei caught up with him easily, still in the process of shrugging out of his apron. “Long time no see.”

Judai’s face split into a grin. “Long time no talk, more like. You’re a busy guy.”

“So’re you,” Yuusei felt the need to point it out.

“Gotta go where the excitement’s at!”

“And if there is none?” Of all the places Yuusei had seen Judai at, he wasn’t so sure any of them qualified for exciting.

“I make my own, that’s the key to life, isn’t it?” While Judai’s enthusiasm was certainly magnetic, Yuusei didn’t quite believe. He showed it in his posture, the slight tilt of his head and bemused smile.

Judai must have taken it as a challenge.

“Going to argue with me over it?” Judai jabbed a finger at Yuusei. “Then I challenge you to a duel! Winner’s correct about the meaning of life.”

“Pretty high stakes, what are we dueling with?”

“How do you feel about poker?” Judai’s grin stretched a bit wider and Yuusei had a feeling that he’d be in trouble if he said he felt fine about poker.

“It’s fine,” Yuusei said. “But we’re not exactly at a casino.” And unless Judai carried cards on him, they were fresh out of materials to play with too.

“Dang, you’re right. How about this, we meet at the Grand later tonight — if you have time.”

Yuusei paused. There was the chance that Judai was in fact asking him out on a date, but there was also the chance that it was just one of those things — hangout things. It usually wasn’t an issue, or a question, but something about Judai kept throwing him off balance. He didn’t know Judai well enough to take a proper guess at it at all. He did want to spend more time with Judai though — if only to scratch that itch, to finally settle in his mind the presence of Yuki Judai.

“I’ve got time.”

“See you there? Eight or so?” Judai’s smile was unreadable.

“Yeah, eight.”

They parted ways. It seemed pretty ridiculous, really, somehow that meeting with Judai wasn’t any less odd than their first. It involved less illegal activities, but the way Judai just _was_ ; Yuusei hadn’t, before, met someone who seemed so alive.

The casino was where Judai felt most at home — even more than in his room, in his bed, or further back, a childhood home or hideaway. There was a transient nature to the place — while regulars frequented the casino, usually it was new faces, a new stream of people. There were the slot machine guys, the blackjackkers, and people just trying their luck.

Yuusei met him at the front door, and the first thing he said was, “Isn’t this a little unfair? I’m playing you _and_ other people.” It was belated, hours and hours belated, but Judai cracked up.

“I never said it would be an easy duel.”

And it wasn’t. Judai was more than good at cards — he was _damn near perfect_ at cards. The dealer gave Judai a look when they sat down at the table, too many games and he’d be asked to leave, that was their standing agreement, anyway. But after years and years of trying to prove Judai cheated, and finding nothing, they casino couldn’t really ban him.

“I’ll warn you, I’m pretty lucky.” Judai said, cheerfully.

Pretty lucky was an understatement. Not only did Judai’s unreadable smile continue to work in his favor, but he didn’t have a bad hand the entire time — except for the last one, where he bluffed Yuusei out of the pot with a two and three of spades in hand, and all hearts on the flop. That was when Yuusei shook his head and had to concede.

“I’m not sure my wallet can take anymore, you win. The key to life is making your own excitement.”

“Giving up so easily?” Judai grinned, but swept up his winnings and stood. “That was fun, you’re not bad.”

“I don’t think I won a single hand,” Yuusei countered, amused.

“Neither did they,” Judai put in, nodded to the other two sitting at the table, and then shrugged, “Weren’t we just saying about this? The key to life!”

“Well, it’s certainly been exciting.”

“We’re just getting started.”

Judai dragged Yuusei through the casino. They stopped to play a round of slots, to try their luck at blackjack and roulette. Judai’s luck held through most games, but it wasn’t outstanding outside of poker. After a few hours, the midnight crowd started to trickle into the casino and they headed outside for a break.

“Poker’s your game,” Yuusei said — Judai got used to the way Yuusei spoke, quickly. Everything was like a summary, there were so many words unsaid underneath it all. That statement was Yuusei commenting on Judai’s above-average-but-not-outstanding win ratio at the other games.

“It’s the most peopley one. You’re playing each other, and the cards. Blackjack is mostly the house and the odds. You can’t bluff your way over a 21, but in poker you can ruin someone’s perfect hand if you’re good enough. But there’s surprise! The flop, turn and river all can make or break it too.” Judai said it as if it was easy and casual.

“You don’t play on probability?” Yuusei asked.

Judai winked. “Counting cards is illegal, Yuusei.” It was such an innocent, yet entirely too cheeky, response, that Yuusei had to laugh.

“Didn’t think you were a stickler for the rules.”

“Bending them let’s me meet interesting people. But I’d never completely ignore them! At the end of the day, I’m the hero, not the villain.”

Weirdly, the way they stood, with the casino’s lights behind Judai — it was almost believable. Bright gold and red tinted everything, even Judai’s brown jacket, bold neon and his expression was so undeniably valiant.

“... had a great night, but I’ve got work in the morning.” Yuusei said, after a moment. It ruined the illusion, but Judai ruined it even more — he crossed the distance between them and his grin was, so many levels away from valiant. In just that movement, all the light that had previously haloed him fell away, leaving his face partially shadowed.

“Let’s do it again, sometime.”

There’s no way that Yuusei could have refused, anyway.

* * *

Being _with_ Judai was an experience entirely outside of what Yuusei could describe. They did not have a series of dates where they grew closer to each other and eventually moved in together. There was no long pining telephone calls or anniversaries. He gave Judai a key to his place, an open door invitation, and they lived their lives apart.

Judai was chaotic, unpredictable, and as Yuusei had found out, somewhat of a professional gambler. He didn’t enter the pro-circuit of poker, none of that ESPN primetable kind of thing, but there wasn’t any real need for that. The idea of hinging his entire rent on a hand of poker didn’t sit well with Yuusei, but it seemed to be the kind of thing that Judai lived for.

He was never quite sure when Judai would end up appearing in his apartment — sometimes on the couch, sometimes in the guest room, sometimes sprawled out on Yuusei’s bed at the oddest hours. Most of the time, it was a pleasant surprise. But after a double shift and three nights in a row of working on a project, Yuusei fell into bed without looking and there was Judai.

“Hey,” Judai said, grinned, didn’t at all shift out of the way. “Shouldn’t you undress before getting into bed?” He tugged at Yuusei’s jacket, to say nothing of the work gloves and boots. Yuusei just made a noncommittal noise and tried to bury his face in the pillow.

“Nope, up!” Judai didn’t relent at all, and shoved Yuusei out of bed. “At least take your jacket off.”

“When did you get back?” Yuusei complied, fumbled with the laces on his boots and then gave up and just shrugged out of his jacket. Gloves were also tossed aside.

“A few hours ago, man you look like shit.”

“Thanks, Judai.” Yuusei squinted at the bed. It seemed like a lot of work to get off the floor, now that he was sitting on it. “Good trip?”

“It was okay. I got some pretty cool pictures of the mountain, wanna see?” Before Yuusei could answer, Judai had slid off the bed and sat down next to him. At least he brought the pillows and blanket with him, held the phone out for Yuusei to flick through the photos. Judai next to a donkey, Judai on the mountain path, a pretty glorious shot of the landscape, a picture of the airplane floor.

“Got tired?” Yuusei mumbled, indicated the photo.

“Well — it was on the way back and the guy next to me was using the arm rest, even though it wasn’t his to use. So I asked him if he wanted to play a game for it — really friendly like!” Judai launched into the explanation of how it went from friendly arm rest debating into a full blown argument and somehow he’d taken a picture of the airplane floor. Yuusei didn’t doubt that there was probably something else to the story, but he was too tired to listen fully. It was oddly comfortable on the floor, where he leaned against Judai and the pillows and blankets were scattered around them.

“Mmhmm,” Yuusei said. Judai continued on then — backtracking to his trip, meeting up with old friends, meeting new ones. A chase down the path because the donkey ran away with their bags, their first hostel lost their reservation, a storm waylaid their hike.

Judai probably talked well into the morning — or maybe he didn’t, he might have noticed when Yuusei fell asleep and hushed. Either way, when Yuusei woke the next morning, Judai was still curled up with him on the floor, the phone nested between them.

It was a good way to greet the morning.

And, it was then that Yuusei noticed what a hypocrite Judai had been. Turned out, they had both slept in their clothes. He left Judai sleeping and headed to the kitchen. It was odd, even though Judai didn’t _really_ live with Yuusei, things around the apartment had changed.

Instead of bare walls, souvenirs littered the area. Some of them were probably not meant to be hung on walls, but that seemed like the easiest way to keep them displayed and not underfoot. There was a picture — it was kind of hideous, actually, but Judai had brought it back from a city with a name Yuusei couldn’t pronounce. A street artist had painted it out of spray paint and tin foil and it was supposedly an angel or something. Yuusei was pretty sure it was just a bunch of silver paint and a bunch of dark purple paint, but he had hung it up because the afternoon Judai had brought it over, they had spent the entire afternoon outside, barefoot, and that was an important memory to him.

There was a box. Judai said it was rumored to be an evil box that cursed whoever held it — but neither of them was particularly superstitious. Yuusei had hung it on the wall by the lid, the ornate back faced outward. The pattern was something like interlocking leaves and spirals and hard angles that might have been runes. Neither of them had been cursed yet, so, everything was probably fine.

Along with the various pamphlets, jewelry, postcards and candy wrappers Judai had brought back from his trips — all carefully hung by nail and wire — was just a big flat rock. It was, supposedly, space rock, shaved off from an asteroid and Judai had decided it was _the coolest_. So, Yuusei had hung it on the wall.

The living room had gained about three extra chairs — none of which Yuusei ever used, but it wasn’t uncommon to find Judai curled up in one of them. He wasn’t really sure where they came from either — recliner, a love seat and a bean bag decorated in polka dots.

Even the kitchen had changed. Judai had suggested, offhand after too many collisions in the kitchen, that they hire someone to expand it. Yuusei didn’t hire anyone, but he deconstructed the bar and extended the linoleum, then rebuilt the bar. Then, he’d crafted two chairs that fit snugly under the bar, so when not in use they took up minimal space.

He probably had a while before Judai woke up — oddly, it seemed to be one of the singular constants about Judai. Yuusei was always an early riser, regardless of when he woke up and if they had spent the night together, Judai seemed to wake about forty minutes later. There didn’t seem to be any particular _reason_ for it — though, one of them had said it, _habits changed when you made room for someone else in your life_.

The other big change was that Judai had banned instant coffee from the kitchen. Instead, Yuusei lugged out the espresso machine from the cabinet where he stowed it when Judai wasn’t in. The nicer mugs — clean, not reused several times before Yuusei half-heartedly washes them out — brought down and milk was poured into a pan to heat up. Chocolate syrup, vanilla, a little extra sugar — he wasn’t a terribly great cook, but time and practice had taught Yuusei that was the best combination to add.

Both coffee cups in one hand and his laptop in the other, Yuusei returned to the bedroom. Judai had curled up even more, but the sunlight tracked across the floor and would soon be in his face. Yuusei set Judai’s coffee down near him, but hopefully enough of the way that it wouldn’t get unexpectedly knocked over. Then he went to work.

It was easy to lose track of time, working. One of Yuusei’s worst habits, and he had barely touched his coffee, intent on the laptop screen, when a soft weight dropped against his back. Judai had woken up and moved over to lean, back to back, with Yuusei. “Morning.”

“You slept on the floor,” Yuusei pointed out — shut the laptop, pushed it aside. They only got a few of these mornings together a month, it was better to savor them. “And in your clothes.”

Judai laughed. “Hey, you did the same.”

“Mmhm, how long are you staying?” Yuusei didn’t turn around, just leaned back, trusting that Judai wouldn’t get up and let him fall back.

“Don’t know, doesn’t really matter though, does it?”

It was Yuusei’s turn to laugh then. “No, I guess it doesn’t.” Judai always came home in the end, anyway.


End file.
